Theme to a Fake Revolution
by Saerry Snape
Summary: It has been six years since the Trio graduated Hogwarts. And Harry has not been seen in the wizarding world since the defeat of Voldemort... Where is he? The answer is surprising...
1. Night on the Town

Chapter 1 

_Snick!_

In the shadows on an empty road in a darker part of London, a lighter was lit then clicked shut.  A cigarette tip glowed bright for a moment then dimmed as its owner blew out a ring of smoke, sighing.

Down the road, a black Mercedes came around the corner, fish-tailing as it did so.  The motor roared as the car slammed forward, racing towards the curb.  Whoever was driving was exceptionally good because they turned at the exact moment the car's wheels would have run up on the cement curb and cut the engine at the same moment.

Two police cars came around the corner a moment later, motors revving, as they didn't take the fishtail as well as the Mercedes.  Sirens wailing, they shot down the empty road, not even noticing the parked Mercedes they'd been chasing.

The owner of the cigarette slowly walked over to the car, boot heels clicking softly on the concrete sidewalk.  Just as they got within three feet of the vehicle, the driver's door opened and a pair of dark heels slid out.  The body of a lithe redhead wearing a tan skirt and a plain white shirt followed them.  Both hugged her curves and revealed her well – but not overly – muscled legs, arms, and torso.  She slipped on a tan coat as she stood, allowing a vague glimpse of the shoulder rig she wore, its leather dark against her shirt.

"You're late," said the owner of the cigarette in a gruff voice as the woman closed the door of the car and stood with one hand on her shapely hip.  It was clearly a man.

The woman fixed him with cool brown eyes and said, "I ran into a few – difficulties."

The man snorted as though this was not an unusual thing.  "What did you do this time?" he asked.

"Speeding," replied the woman in an innocent tone, leaning against the car and looking at him from underneath her lashes.

"Speeding," he repeated.

"Speeding," she agreed.

The man walked to the front of the car and bent down.  Smoke swirled about his head as he stood back up and said, "Or perhaps it is the fact that you forgot to put the license plate on again."

"Oh," said the woman with a coy smile.  "My mistake."

The man snorted again and took another drag at the cigarette.  He started to throw it on the ground but the woman snatched it from his hand, putting it to her own lips.

"Those can kill you," said the man.

"Really?" said the woman in a condensing tone.

The man took the cigarette from her lips on her next exhale and released it, crushing it beneath the heel of his dark boot when it hit the ground.  "Time to go," he said then, stepping out of the shadows into the light of a streetlamp.  A black overcoat and a dark fedora hid his features and clothes – which must have been dark as well – as he continued on down the sidewalk.  The woman followed him, heels clicking against the concrete as her right hand slid up under her coat.

The man turned after going a few steps and mounted the set of stairs that led up to an ancient apartment building.  As the woman followed, he pressed one of the buttons that rang the apartments.  The legend beside it read "A. B. Marx" in a neat, computer-generated script.  Scribbled in the margin of the piece of paper in a bad hand was the name "Shanks".

"Are we sure he's here?" asked the woman as the sound of the bell inside faded away.  "He could have taken off."

"True," said the man, pushing the button again.  "But Oscar's never wrong."

The woman smiled coldly at that.

"That's what you said about Henson."

"Henson was a fucked up piece of shit."

"Yeah," said the woman, "but it looks like Oscar was wrong too.  He's not home."

"Oh, he's home," growled the man darkly, punching the button a third time.  "And he knows its us."  He took a casual step back now, considering the door for a moment before he put all his weight on his left foot, turned his body, and rammed the steel rimmed heel of his right boot against the door.  The cheap wood groaned in agony but valiantly held.  After a moment, the man repeated this action and the door broke.  The doorknob remained in its place, splinters sticking out from it sharply, while the rest of the door swung inward and thumped hard against the dingy wall before slowly swinging halfway back.

The woman entered first, drawing a .45 Smith and Wesson revolver from her shoulder righ as she looked around.  Outside, the man watched, hands in the pockets of his coat, as the lights in the building across the street came on.  He followed her in, saying quickly, "The neighbors are up."

"Shit," remarked the woman, eyes narrowing.  But there was no hurry in her brown orbs.  Only patience.  "What floor's this asshole on?"

"Third," replied the man.  "Let's get this done before your cop friends come back."

The woman snorted at that remark and stalked towards the staircase, the barrel of her gun pointed towards the dank looking carpet.  The man tailed her, hands still in the pockets of his overcoat.

On the third floor, the woman stopped and – not looking back at him – said, "Room?"  Her eyes scanned the corridor going off in front of them and the one heading off to the right as she spoke.

"Sixteen B," came the gruff reply as the sirens suddenly came close again, perhaps two miles away.  "Damnit.  Your friends are back."

The woman snorted and headed down the straight corridor towards the battered door that read "16B".  She took up position against the wall, her gun up now with its muzzle pointed up at the ceiling, which was as equally dank and dingy as the walls and carpet.  The man nodded to her and stepped up to the door, lifting his right hand from his pocket and rapping his knuckles against the thin wood.

"Open up, Shanks," he called.  "I know you're at home."

"Fuck off!" came the reply from inside the apartment, the voice heavy with its Cockney accent.

"Oh, now you know I can't do that, Shanks," purred the man.  He lifted his head enough that the hall light shone on his jaw, revealing a wide smirk.  "You owe me something."

"Fuck off, _damnit!_  I doan owe ye nothin'!"

"Now, Shanks…"

The man was cut off as the apartment door slammed open, spreading a rectangle of light on the dimly lit corridor.  A twelve-gauge, twin-barreled shotgun was leveled at his head; a pair of wild blue eyes peered down the barrel from underneath a head of greasy black hair.

"I said _fuck off!_" screamed the man, finger tightening on the shotgun's trigger.

_Click!_

"Shall I shoot him?" asked the woman in a calm voice as she thumbed back the hammer of her revolver.  The gun's muzzle was an inch from the crazed man's earlobe and her index finger was rubbing the trigger.

The man shook his head and said, "Not yet, lovely."  He looked at the crazed man and continued, "Isn't she a marvelous woman?  Beautiful beyond words, serpent-tongued, and a crack shot.  What more could a man ask for?"

The shotgun barrel's quivered and the man held out his right hand, the left still in his pocket.

"Give me the gun, Shanks," he said.  "I won't ask twice.  And if you don't, I'll let my lovely companion here blow your brains out through your other ear.  I daresay it would be an improvement."

Shanks shook, eyes wide with fear now.  His grip on the shotgun tightened and the woman tensed, moving the barrel of her revolver so it rested against his earlobe.  With a yelp, Shanks practically threw the shotgun at the man, who caught it in his right hand then flipped it open.

Shaking his head, the man said, "Tut, tut.  Not even loaded.  Shanks, what a pitiful creature you have become.  Three years ago this would have actually had shells in it."  He reached into a pocket inside his coat and pulled out two shotgun shells, rolling them in his palm before he slid one in, then the other.  With a flick of his wrist, the shotgun popped back together and he leveled it at Shanks heart, smirking when the shirt, barrel-chested man nearly jumped out of his muddy sneakers.

"You owe me a pricey amount, Shanks," said the man, letting the shotgun's twin muzzle rove over Shanks chest.  "And you're five days overdue."

"I – I doan 'ave it," stuttered Shanks, eyes wide enough that the whites showed all around.

"Nothing?" said the man, lifting the shotgun to point at one round shoulder then the other.

"I…" began Shanks then stopped.  He swallowed hard then stammered, "I – I've got a li'le bit o' money.  S'Italian…"

The woman scoffed, cutting him off.

"That doesn't take up two pence worth of your due to me," said the man.  "Unless, of course, you happened to find something particularly special that might interest me."

"We – well…I – Ah did find tha' thing ye tol' me abou'…"

Outside the sirens came closer and the man growled, "Now, Shanks.  Where is it?"

Shanks swallowed hard and said, "I's…um…"

The man lowered the shotgun at Shanks crotch and spat, "_Where?_  Or I'll blow off the only thing left that recognizes you as a man."

"_I sold i'!_" screamed Shanks, blue eyes completely round now.  He looked to have pissed in his soiled pants as well.

"_To who?_" demanded the man as the woman pulled back from Shanks and inched towards the stairwell, leaning over the banister and peering down to the first floor.

"A man!"

"The name, Shanks!  _The name!_"

"_I doan know!_"  screamed Shanks.  "Please…please doan kill meh.  _Doan kill meh!_"

The woman pulled back from the banister as she saw the first flash of a police uniform.  She turned around and waked briskly over to the ma, touching his arm as she slid her gun back into her shoulder rig.

"They're here."

The man snorted and pulled his index finger off the shotgun's trigger, letting his arm and the weapon fall so his coat hid the gun.  He looked down at Shanks, who had slowly slid to the floor against the doorframe, with contempt and a sneer.  "Find out who," he snarled darkly, "or you're a dead man."

With that he turned on a heel, offered his free arm to the woman, and they were gone, disappearing down the back stairwell.  The police came up the stairs a moment later and saw only Shanks, sitting on the floor in the doorway of his apartment, muttering to himself and his eyes glassy.

Back down on the first floor, the man and woman came out of the back stairwell and left the building.  As they walked towards the black Mercedes, they saw a young officer standing in front of the car.

"A rookie," whispered the woman as the young officer turned towards them.  "Still green about the gills."

"Mmm," said the man in agreement.

"Is this your car, sir?"

"Its mine," said the woman, smiling at the rookie, who blushed but kept speaking.

"Do you know its illegal to drive without a license plate, ma'am?"

"Yes," purred the woman, her eyes shining darkly.  "But the car's new."  She smiled sweetly and added, "Won't you let me off just this once?  I swear I'll get it put on right away."

The rookie looked skeptical then said, "Alright.  Now get out of here.  There were vandals reported outside this building."

"Vandals!" exclaimed the woman, sounding appropriately horrified.  "How dreadful!  Let's get out of the officer's way, darling."

"Yes, dear," said the man, smirking beneath his fedora.

The two of them moved past the rookie officer to the Mercedes, the man crossing to the passenger side as the woman slid into the driver's seat.  As she turned the key in the ignition, the man leaned across the gearshift and whispered in her ear, "You _are_ a devious little minx."

The woman smiled and said, "Thank you," as she pulled away from the curb.

"And so good with officers."

"I'm just a multi-talented woman."

"How I know," murmured the man, his hand reaching out to rub her thigh.

"Not until he get home, dear heart," purred the redhead, removing the wandering hand.

"You do enjoy torturing me, don't you?"

"Of course."  She glanced in the rearview mirror just then and added, "Shit."

"What?" said the man in an annoyed tone.

"The damn cops.  One of them is one the cars that was chasing me."

A siren wailed, quickly joined by another and the man growled, "And there's the other one. "  He turned to look back at them through the back window then shifted back and ordered, "Lose them."

"Right," said the woman, her hands tightening about the leather covered wheel.  The Mercedes shot forward as she put the accelerator to the floor and threw the gearshift into fourth, the engine growling gamely as they rounded the corner on two wheels.  Behind them were the two police cars, sirens wailing.

A high-speed chase ensued along the empty, narrowed London roads, the Mercedes leading by three car lengths or more.  They lost the cop cars for a moment then had them on their tail again a moment later.

"Persistent bugger's, aren't they?" growled the man as he peered at the cars in the side mirror.  He pulled the shotgun from where he'd laid it in the floorboard then popped open the glove compartment, pulling out a revolver identical to the one the woman carried in her shoulder rig.  Stuffing the revolver in his coat pocket, he punched the electric button on the door to roll down the window and leaned out, bringing the shotgun up to bear.

One police car swerved out of the way but the other came on, the officer in the passenger side leaning out, a pistol in hand.  The shotgun roared and the right front tire blew out with a loud _bang_.  As the car swerved, the second car came around, the driver firing wildly out his window.  A bullet shattered one of the Mercedes' taillights and the woman cursed.

"Fuck!  I just fixed that damn thing!"

Two bullets from the passenger side shattered the back window and the woman roared, "_Damnit!_  Take the fucking wheel!  I'll kill the bastards myself!  _Nobody shoots up my car and gets away with it!_"

"_Just drive!_" bellowed the man as he threw the shotgun into the backseat, holding onto the car door with his knees.  Grabbing the panic bar in one hand, he drew the revolver from his coat with the other and thumbed back the hammer.

"Well then _shoot the fuckers!_"

The man snarled in response and took careful aim.  One shot rang out, followed swiftly by another.  The first bullet buried itself in the metal of the police car's hood while the second went wild as the woman jerked the Mercedes into a sharp turn.

Four more shots rang out in rapid succession as the police car came around the corner after them.  The first splintered the windshield and the second shattered it, going on through to punch a hole through the back window.  Shot three went right between the driver's eyes, killing him on impact.  As the car started to spin, the officer in the passenger side trying to get control, the fourth bullet rammed into the hood and went straight through to the engine.  The engine exploded in a burst of orange and red flames, sending the spinning car five feet up into the air before it crashed back down.

The man swung back into the Mercedes, his fedora clutched in one hand, his dark hair wild about his face, and spat, "Happy now?"

"Yeah," growled the woman in response as she turned the Mercedes down a one-way street, slowing down to the correct speed limit.  "The bastards shot up _my car_.  I need a little retribution."

"As I said, you are a devious creature," remarked the man as he put the revolver back in the glove compartment.  "We'll need to remember to reload that."

"I'll remember," said the woman, her eyes on the road.  "And thanks.  Shall we go home now, Harry?"

Harry Potter, twenty-three years of age and not the same boy who had walked into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry thirteen years before, leaned back into the leather seat and said, "Yes, Gin.  Let's go home."

Virginia Weasley, better known as Ginny, twenty-two years of ago and not _even_ the shy young girl who had once had a crush on the man beside her years before, nodded and turned the Mercedes out of the one-way street onto the road that would carry them home.


	2. Auror – ocracy

Chapter 2 

The next day awoke to find a young Auror yelling his brains out to another Auror, this one older, in the Auror Academy offices.

"We could have had them!  After six years of chasing them, we could have _had them!_" bellowed the younger Auror, his hair a red to match his temper.  "But _noooooooo_ – no Auror's among the Muggle police.  It would be wrong.  _Bullshit!_"

"You don't know that it as them," said the older Auror.  He was dark-haired and seemed to be the cooler-headed of the two.  Or so it seemed.

"Oh, bullshit, Sirius," snapped the redheaded young man.  "You know it was them.  And we could have had them…"

"But we _don't_," snapped the older Auror, Sirius.  "I know Ginny is your sister but Merlin's beard, Ron.  You're taking all this like it's you fault."

Ronald Weasley glared at his partner, Sirius Black, who though being forty-two and a full twenty-one years older than Ron could act just as childish (or more so) as him sometimes.  But his temper was much worse than Ron's, which was a bad thing.

After the second fall of Voldemort, Sirius had been cleared of all charges against him with the capture of Peter Pettigrew.  The man had rejoined the Auror's not long after that to find his missing godson, who had been expelled from the wizarding world by Cornelius Fudge before Arthur Weasley had taken over the Ministry.  Harry Potter had been sought but the Boy-Who-Lived could not be found anywhere in the wizarding world, London, or any nearby area.

Ginny Weasley had vanished two years later after unknown suspects murdered her father and Neville Longbottom – to many dropped jaws – had become the new Minister of Magic (and had done well).  That had brought Ron into the Aurors and somehow he and Sirius had ended up together.  Luckily, in four years as partners, they had yet to cause any large casualties.  Or kill each other.

"I have never said that," snapped Ron.

"You've acted like it," Sirius fired back.

"Smug hound."  (Sirius had finally become a registered Animagus as well…)

"Stupid rookie."

"Son of a bitch."

"Now I deeply resent that, you snot-brained little…"

"If I can interrupt the testosterone for a moment," said Hermione Granger from the doorway of the office.

Ron whirled about and gaped at her, stammering, "H-Hermione!  A-aren't you supposed to be at the Ministry?"

"I have some news," said Hermione, plainly ignoring his stammering and his question.

"On our little caper?" asked Sirius, swinging his feet down from where they were propped on his desk.

Hermione nodded and held up a manila folder.  She tended to use the Muggle means of filing for her own, rather than the magical.

"All I could find on them.  I did some digging in the Scotland Yard files…"

"_You got in?_" gasped Ron.

"_Yes_," said Hermione, looking perturbed.  She looked back at Sirius and continued, "I found a good bit more on them than we've got.  Too bad we aren't allowed to get an Auror in there.  We might have gotten them before this."

"What's in the folder?" asked Sirius.

"A few of their contacts that Scotland Yard knows, places they've been seen, places they own…some history…oh, and their home address."  The brunette smiled smugly.

Ron blinked in surprise and exclaimed, "The Muggle's have their address?  And they haven't taken them in?"

"They've tried," said Hermione.  "Six or seven times.  But they've got some of the best lawyers on their tab and Merlin knows whom else.  Scotland Yard hasn't been able to lay a single thing on them."

"Well, we will," proclaimed Ron.  "Right, Sirius?"

"After we get more evidence," said the older man, leaning back in his chair.  "If they're just piddling Muggle things we can't touch them."

"But we know…"

"We assumed.  And assuming gets us a bloody bucket of nothing."

"House search?" suggested Ron, arching his eyebrows.

Sirius nodded solemnly.

"House search."

"And what if what you two yahoo's are looking for isn't in the house?" asked Hermione, throwing the folder on Sirius' desk and scowling at them.

"Then we do what we always do," said Sirius.

"Come back to you," finished Ron with a wide grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes and growled under her breathe, "_Men_."  Then, louder, she said, "I'll wish you luck then."  And then she was gone.

"What happened between you two?" asked Sirius as Ron picked up the folder.  "You were practically married."

"This happened," replied Ron, waving the folder.

"Oh.  You mean your obsession with catching Harry and Ginny."

"_I am not obsessed!_" bellowed Ron just as two young female Aurors passed by the open office door.  They stopped and stared at his back until he turned around and noticed they were there.  He blushed and waved pitifully.  "Oh.  Hi, Samantha, Gabrielle."

The blond, Gabrielle, wrinkled her nose and said something in French.  Samantha, a sharp-tongued Irishwoman with blue dyed hair, sneered at him and snapped, "We _know_ you're obsessed, Weasley.  You slimy son of a bitch."

"We," said Gabrielle.  "Slimey son ov a beetch."

"Hey, that's my _mother_ you're talking about!" yelled Ron after them as they continued down the hall.

"Good!" called Samantha over her shoulder.

Ron let out a growl, his fists clenched at his sides, and growled, "_Women_."  Then he whirled on Sirius and snapped, "What are you laughing at?"

"You, my friend," replied Sirius, reaching across his desk for the folder.  "You have absolutely no luck with women.  And didn't you ask those two out?"

"Yeah."  Ron snorted and jabbed his thumb after the two women.  "You think you can do better?"

Sirius laughed.

"I _know_ I can do better."

"Okay.  Let's see."

Sirius looked at the younger man like he'd just suggested shoving a broomstick up his ass before flying on it.  "Please," he said, opening the folder.

"Why not?" exclaimed Ron.

"They're too young.  What kind of person do you think I am?"

"You're a dirty old man!"

"Oh, now I really resent that," said Sirius.

"Oh, shut up.  I've seen you looking at them."

"Yeah.  _Looking_.  What man couldn't resist looking at those two?"

Ron scowled.

"That's not the point."

"Really?" said Sirius as he grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, scribbling something down then tearing it off.  He stood, closing the folder and putting it in a desk drawer as he grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the chair.

"Where are we going?" asked Ron, scrambling for his own coat as Sirius headed out into the hall.

"Here," replied Sirius, holding up the piece of parchment between two fingers as Ron ran up behind him.  The younger man grabbed the paper as he shrugged one shoulder into his jacket and read the address after he'd gotten the other in.

"Hey, this is in…oh, what's it – Kent."

"On the outer edge," corrected Sirius, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.  Ron's eyes widened at the sight of them.

"No," he said.

"What?" said Sirius, stopping.  He then looked at the keys and added, "Oh, come on, Ron…"

"I'm not riding that thing again."

"You only nearly fell off."

"Yeah.  Nearly.  _From two hundred feet up!_"

"If it makes you feel better, these are my car keys."

Ron blinked.

"What happened to your motorcycle?"

"Since you're such a bad rider…oh, hell, you're a piss-ass rider."

"Oy!"

"It's the truth and you know it," admonished Sirius as he headed down a flight of stairs.

"Well you don't need to say it out loud," grumbled Ron as he followed him.

"Yes I do."

Ron snorted and staggered as he missed the last step.  Sirius steadied him, shaking his head.

"You always forget that last step, you klutz."

"Sod off."

"Fine.  Next time you can become a pretty floor decoration.  Your red hair will match the décor."

Ron glared at Sirius, who tossed the car keys from one hand to the other then headed out of the building.  The Auror Academy was one of a few wizard-built buildings that had an entrance to London and one to Diagon Alley, which made it easier for Aurors to get to where they were needed.  It also had a hall that transported you right into a hall at the Ministry.

"Come on or I'm leaving you!" yelled Sirius as he pushed open the door and headed up a flight of stairs.  The London entrance to the Academy was a sort of members only club in the basement of an apartment building.  Only no one lived in the 'apartments' and no one could figure out how to join the club.  Of course, Muggle's forgot abou it the moment they passed it by or tried to go in.

"C'mon, kid!" snapped Sirius as he opened the driver door on a green Bentley and slid inside, slamming the door shut after him.  Just as he put the key in the ignition, Ron came barreling up the steps.  He sprinted across traffic to the car, leaping and sliding across the hood.  Once his feet his the pavement, he slammed open the passenger door and bellowed, "_You could wait a bloody moment!_"

"Just get in," said Sirius, turning the key so the engine roared to life.

"I'll get in when I…"

"_Get in the fucking car!_" yelled Sirius, blue eyes blazing.

Ron's own blue eyes went wide an he dropped into the passenger seat just as Sirius slammed the car into first gear and shot into traffic, shifting to third as he went.

"Shit!" yelled Ron, grabbing the seat in both hands as the car swerved into the opposite lane before Sirius jerked the wheel and got them back into the correct one.

"_Shit!_" yelled Ron again, scrabbling for the seat belt.  He looked at Sirius after it snapped shut and spat, "You drive wilder in this than on that damned motorcycle!"

"And if you have a problem with my driving, take it up with the Complaint Department," growled Sirius, barely slowly down to take a turn.

Ron grabbed the panic bar above the door as the car nearly went on two wheels and moaned, "_What did I do in another life to deserve this?_"


	3. Look at the Morning

Chapter 3 

In an average sized house just on the outside edge of the area known as Kent, one of the two presences in the house stirred.  A man opened his eyes on the second floor, their color a brilliant green not matched by anything else on earth but a flawless emerald.  He shifted in the king-sized bed, the blanket sliding down to reveal broad shoulders and lean back, both lightly laced with muscle.  One arm moved from where it curled about the lithe body of a young woman with short, flaming red hair to reach up and brush back a head of wild black hair.  He then rolled out of the bed, grabbing a pair of blue jeans lying on the carpeted floor.

Dressed in only these, he left the bedroom and headed down the hall to the staircase, which spiraled down into the kitchen.  Padding across the faux marble tile, he went to the counter and started up the coffee machine.  Once it had started, he checked the clock above the refrigerator then headed for the front door.

"Good morning, Basil," he said cheerfully, opening the door on the postman.

Basil Whithers froze, mail in hand, then laughed and handed it to the man.

"I should suspect this by now."

"Quite right," said the man, taking the mail and flipping idly through it.  "All junk today?"

"Well," said Basil, "there's one that looks pretty important.  Got to be off now.  Say hello to the lady for me, Mr. Potter."

"I will," said Harry Potter, watching the man as he headed back for his motorbike.  He then turned and closed the door, heading back into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later when the coffee maker beeped, there was a knock at the door.  Harry looked up, the hand reaching for a coffee mug freezing in midair.  He turned and headed for the door, muttering, "Now who…"

Immediately the door was kicked violently open and a young woman swung in, gun in hand and aiming at Harry's bare chest.  He leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and the main room, saying jovially, "Good morning, Inspector Fenn.  What brings you all the way out here to Kent?"

The woman lowered her gun slightly and growled, "Potter."  Her pale blue eyes blazed over the barrel of the gun.

"Yes, dear, Inspector, that would be me.  Coffee?"

"No," growled Fenn.  "Where were you last night, Potter?"

"Here," replied Harry.

"Anyone who can confirm that?"

"Inspector, aren't you a tad bit out of your district?"

Fenn let out a growl and shoved her gun into her shoulder rig.  She then stalked up to Harry and glared up at the six foot two man from five feet nothing, blue eyes flashing with all the fire in her spirit.

"My district is wherever you are, Potter," she spat.  "And one of these days you're going to mess up and I'm going to be there to slam your face into the pavement.  And I'll _enjoy it_."

"I have no doubt," said Harry, smiling.  "Your sure you don't want any coffee?"

Fenn scowled at him and said, "Fuck you, Potter."

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but I'm already taken.  And what would you're mother think of that language?"

"She'd think it's perfectly alright to use for crooks like _you_."  Fenn lifted a clenched fist and shook it in his face as she added, "And she'd probably think I should have shot you long ago."

"You did," said Harry matter-of-factly.  He touched an almost round scar on his left shoulder and continued, "This is your work, remember?  Went straight through and shattered the bone.  I have a cast for four months."

"Too bad it didn't shatter your black heart," snarled Fenn.

"I'm hurt."

Fenn gave Harry a rude hand gesture and stormed out, her coat flapping behind her.

"You owe me another door!" yelled Harry after her when he saw the doorknob hanging limply.

"Fuck you!"

Harry shook his head and closed the door as far as it would go, throwing the bolt to keep it shut.  As he headed back into the kitchen, he shook his head and muttered, "_Women_."

"What was that?" asked a voice from the table.  Ginny sat there wrapped in a bedsheet with a mug of steaming coffee clasped in her hands, brown eyes peering over it at him.

"Just commenting on Inspector Fenn, love," said Harry, bending to kiss her cheek as he headed for the coffee.

"She suspects us again?"

"The lovely Rachel suspects us of everything?"

"Lovely?" said Ginny, turning in her chair and arching her eyebrows.  "I hope you're not cheating on me."

"Of course not," admonished Harry, stirring sugar into his coffee.  He moved over to the table and sat down beside her, grinning as he said, "You'd shoot me."

"After I castrated you."

"But of course.  You do revenge oh-so-well."

"I hope that's not the only reason you adore me," quipped Ginny, lifting her mug to her lips.

Harry laughed around a swallow of coffee.

"Of course not, love.  You are a beautiful, enchanting, lovable, huggable, entrancingly dangerous woman."

Ginny smiled over her mug and said, "I learned from the best."

"Mmm," murmured Harry as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.  "But the student excels the teacher."

"I do try."

"I know."

"What's today's agenda?" asked Ginny, scooting her chair closer to him and turned so she could lean against him, tucking one lithe, bare leg up under her.

"Ahh," sighed Harry, wrapping an arm about her waist.  "Today, my beautiful vixen, we must go see our dear Benji."

"What about Shanks?" asked Ginny.

Harry's face turned stony for a moment then went back to the way it had been before, smiling and jovial.

"Ah, Shanks.  I think we should set Guy to watching him."

"Guy?  But he's the best…"

"I know," said Harry, taking a sip of coffee.  "But Shanks knows where that damned thing is and I want it."

"To destroy it, I hope," murmured Ginny.

Harry smiled down at her then cocked back his head and downed the rest of the coffee.

"Of course," he quipped.  "Now head upstairs and get ready.  Only I get to see you in a bedsheet."

Ginny smiled and leaned her head back, barely kissing his lower jaw.  She purred, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."  That said, she pulled away from him, sheet bundled about her, and headed back up the stairs, coffee in hand.

Harry rose after she was gone, putting his empty mug in the sink and peering out the window.  An engine roared from a few miles away and he frowned.  Generally only Ginny drove that fast and only when she was being chased, in a hurry, or pissed off.

And as the lovely lady was currently upstairs, it couldn't be her.  So what crazy person was driving around in that same wild fashion?

Harry frowned and rubbed his chin, idly scratching the stubble that had grown during the night.  He continued to look out the window until a warm, soft hand touched his bare back, causing him to turn and face its owner.

Ginny smiled up at him and ran her hand over his flat stomach, her fingers lingering on the long horizontal knife scar that ran across his navel.  She held up her other hand, which held one of his shirts and said, "I thought you might need this."  She herself was wearing one of his shirts, an old green sweater that was beginning to fray about the edges.

Harry took the shirt with a smile and said, "I need a shave."

"I think you look more dignified with it," purred Ginny, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Harry laid his hand over hers, looking down at her with utmost affection in his brilliant green eyes.  He softly said, "You only say that because you have to."

Ginny arched her eyebrows, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone as she said, "Really?"

"Really," confirmed Harry, closing his hand about hers.

"I think your lying."

"Really?" said Harry, arching an eyebrow slightly.

"Yep," declared Ginny, pulling away from him.  She smiled coyly and said, "Put on your shirt.  I'll be out in the garage."

Harry watched her as she turned and walked out of the kitchen.  His eyes trailed down to her shapely, blue jean covered legs, his mind drifting back to the first time he'd had those legs and that body all to himself.  A sappy smiled slide onto his features as he pulled the dark green t-shirt over his head then left the kitchen himself, grabbing a brown leather jacket off the coat rack by the door as he passed it.  He picked up the pair of boots sitting at the base of it as well.

Out in the garage, Ginny was fussing over the Mercedes, muttering about stupid cops and how they always seemed to damage her beloved car.  Harry slid his arms into the leather jacket as he caught the slowly closing door with her bare foot.  He held the string of the boots in his teeth as he did this, grabbing thing as soon as he had the jacket on.

"Problems, love?" he asked, dropping the left boot as he pulled on the right.

Ginny pulled out of the back seat and glared at him, her expression one of annoyance.  She waved a hand at the shattered window and said, "The bastards blew out most of the back window, so the whole lot of it'll have to be replaced.  Plus the taillight will have to be replaced _again_ and you know we just got that fixed last week…"

"Easy, love, easy," interrupted Harry, stamping his foot into the left boot and tying it deftly fast.  He walked over to her and pulled her close, running his hand over her hair.

"I know you love the car, Gin, but if you keep ranting like that your going to blow one of your gaskets instead of one of its."

Ginny glared mildly at him and growled, "You're not making me feel any better."

"Mmm," said Harry, resting his chin on top of her head.  "But I know what you can do.  You go take the 'Cedes and go see Dorien about fixing it. I'll take the bike and go see Benji."

"Harry," admonished Ginny, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him.  "They pulled your bike license after that incident on the bridge."

Harry laughed and declared, "You are behind!  Love, that was only for six months.  It ran out two weeks ago."

"Oh.  I guess I am behind."

"Yes, you are."  Harry kissed her forehead and said, "Now get on with you and I'll pick you up at our café after I talk to Benji."

"Our café?" repeated Ginny.

"Yes.  You know, the place just two blocks up from Dorien's.  Where you met me."

"Oh.  That café."

"Yeah, that café."

"When?" asked Ginny as she fished the Mercedes' keys out of her back pocket.

Harry shrugged in response and sighed.

"However long it takes me to catch up with Benji."

"Okay.  I'll see you then."

"Mmm," murmured Harry, kissing her lips lightly before he turned and headed for the red Harley Davidson motorcycle parked on the other side of the garage behind a dark green BMW.  As he took the keys out of a little compartment built into the seat of the bike, Ginny walked over to the panel on the wall that opened the garage door.  The machinery groaned to life clanking as it pulled the metal door up.

Harry swung his leg over the motorcycle, putting the key in the ignition and turned it, sinking down onto the seat as the engine roared to life.  One the other side of the garage, Ginny got in the Mercedes and cranked it, sighing and leaning on the steering wheel as she watched the door go up.

After a moment more of waiting, Harry pulled up his feet, kicking up the kickstand as he did so.  His hands grabbed the handlebars as the motorcycle shot towards the door, which still wasn't open far enough for him to get through.  Ginny sat up abruptly in her car as, three feet form the halfway open door, Harry hauled the bike down onto its side and slid under the door, his head missing it by a few centimeters.

"_Psycho!_" she bellowed out the window as he pulled the bike back up then leaned down and waved at her before taking off down the driveway and into the road.

"Crazy man," muttered the redhead as she watched the door clank its way up.  "I don't know why I love him."  She pulled up the parking brake and yawned as the last bit of the door rolled up.  Then she slammed the car into first gear and floored the gas pedal, shifting into second as the car roared out onto the road.


	4. Follow the Leader

Chapter 4 

_Clank!  Clank clank clank!_

"Is it just me," yelled Ron as the old Bentley rounded a corner, "or do you really hate trashcans?!"

_Clank!  Clank!_

"Do you _really hate trashcans!?_"

"_Yes!_" bellowed Sirius as he deliberately ran down another trashcan.  "I hate trashcan's.  Do you have a problem with it?"

Ron shook his head and held up his hands.

"No, no.  Kill all the trashcans you want.  Trashcans are evil.  So evil that they are conspiring to take over the world!"

Sirius looked at the younger man beside him and point out, "Now that's going a little far, isn't it?  Running over trashcans is one thing but evil trashcan's attempting to take over the world?  Sounds like something some crazed American horror novelist on crack would think up."

Ron looked at him in disbelief and said, "You take the fun out of everything."

"I prefer to think I put the fun in everything," quipped Sirius.  He suddenly sat up and said, "There's the house."

Ron leaned forward, peering through the windshield.  He saw a red blue streak out of the garage and stated, "One of them's on a motorcycle."

"Just one?"

"Yep.  And there's a Mercedes.  They're going separate places."

"Whoever's in the Mercedes if heading our way," said Sirius.

"And whoever it is," said Ron, "we'll follow them.  That car will be easier to follow than that motorcycle."

"Mmm."

As the Mercedes passed, Ron exclaimed, "_Its Ginny!  Turn around!_"

"We're tailing her, you idiot," snapped Sirius.  "Not running her down."

"That's my sister!"

"Who's obsessed?"

Ron's mouth opened then closed with an audible snap.  Sirius nodded absently at the sound and remarked, "I thought so."

"Just shut up and turn around," growled Ron.

Sirius chuckled and slowed down, turned around in a driveway, then began to follow the black Mercedes.  They followed the car all the way to a rundown area of London, never getting anymore than two cars closer to it.  It wasn't a bad area that they ended up in…but it wasn't a good one either.

The Mercedes pulled up next to a building with a crooked sign that read 'Deadman's Garage'.  Sirius pulled the Bentley over on the opposite side of the street and cut the engine, smirking when he saw the name of the place.

"Lovely name, don't you think?"

Ron snorted in response and watched as Ginny got out of the Mercedes and stood on the sidewalk beside the car, reaching back in the open window after a moment to blow the horn.  As the two Aurors watched, a man with dirty blond hair wearing a pair of worn overalls with on strap broken and a grease-stained plaid shirt under it walked out, rubbing his hands on a rag almost as stained as his shirt.  When he saw Ginny, he smiled broadly, revealing surprisingly white teeth.  Striding over to her, he held out a fairly clean hand, his other stuffing the rag in a pocket of the overalls.

Ginny smiled as the man approached, holding out her hand and putting it in his.

"Hello, Dorien."

"'Lo, Ginny, me luv," replied the man in his brisk, jovial Irish brogue.  "And whot brings you to me fine establishment?"  His pale green eyes suddenly landed upon the Mercedes and a low moan issued forth from his mouth.  "Oh, you did'na do more harm ta dis lovely car, did you las?"

"Unfortunately," admitted Ginny, a grumble in her tone and a glare in her eyes.

"Taillight again?" said Dorien as he walked to the back of the car.  "Great scott, lass, what'd ye do ter tha ba' window?"

Ginny smiled gently and said, "You know I can't tell you that, Dorien."

"Whot has 'Arry goh you into dis time?"

"Are you implying that I can't get into trouble all on my own?"

Dorien stood and looked at the woman standing on the sidewalk, her hands on her hips and eyes flashing darkly but with humor.  He smiled apologetically and said, "Of course na, luv.  Ah know you c'n get into trouble all on your own."

"You keep calling me 'luv' and Harry might get jealous," pointed at Ginny jokingly, wagging a finger at the man.

"Now Ah know 'Arry would'na go tha."

"And why not?"

"Cause _Ah_," said Dorien with a wide grin as he jabbed his thumb at his chest, "am tha only garage owner in all o' London who won't ask questions."

"You ask me," pointed out Ginny.

"Only 'cause Ah'm 'opelessly smitten with you, luv," quipped Dorien, crouching by the shattered taillight.

"You let Harry hear that and he'll deck you," said Ginny seriously.  "Best garage owner or not."

Dorien smiled, his eyes on the taillight, and said, "But 'e know tha you'd never leave 'im fer anoder man."  He looked up at her then and added, "Ah can 'ave dis done by tomorrow afternoon.  Tha taillight'll be a breeze but tha ba' window…a li'le more tricky."

Ginny smiled at the Irishman and said, "Just get it done, Dorien.  I'll come get it tomorrow."

"You goh it, luv."

Dorien have her a charming smile and Ginny returned it, tossing the Mercedes' keys to him.  When he caught them, she was already walking down the sidewalk.

"Where's she going now?" pondered Sirius as he watched Ginny, his eyes unwittingly trailing up and down her lean figure.  He mentally slapped himself for it.

"Wherever it is, I'm following her," declared Ron, reaching for the door handle.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_" exclaimed Sirius, grabbing the younger man's arm.  "Waitaminute.  We can't just follow her.  We have to _think_."

"I am thinking!" snapped Ron, blue eyes flashing.  "I'm thinking of my sister!"

"Now that's just it," said Sirius.  He jabbed his finger at the younger man's chest and snarled, "She's _not_ an innocent little girl anymore.  For four years or less she's been with Harry and Merlin knows what he's taught her.  We _know_ what he's capable of."

"Let me go," growled Ron.

Sirius scowled.  "Not until you calm down and look at this again.  You still see your younger sister in Ginny.  Well, guess what?  She's twenty-bloody-two and could probably kill the two of us if we took her on."

"Yeah, without wands."

"And probably without them, too."  Sirius looked coldly at Ron as a look of surprise came across the younger man's face.  "Yeah, that's what I said."

"You must be joking," breathed Ron.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Ron looked at the older man's face for a long moment, stared into the blue eyes still haunted by Azkaban for a half-second, then turned away.

"No."

"Good.  'Cause I'm not.  And, besides, we can't use wands in broad daylight.  Too many Muggle's and who knows how we'd explain a possible hole in a building."

"Why would we put a hole in a building?  _Ow!_  What was that for?"

Sirius slapped the back of Ron's head again and replied, "For being an idiot.  C'mon."

"We're going after her?" exclaimed Ron as he watched Sirius get out of the car.

"No, we're going to sit in the car until we rot.  C'mon, moron."

"_Moron?_"  Ron scrambled out of the car, ears red as his hair, and ran across the road to catch up with Sirius, who was walking casually down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.  As soon as he caught up, he held out his hands and said blankly, "Moron?"

Sirius nodded in confirmation and Ron wrinkled his nose, but said nothing.  The two of them followed the crop of short red hair that was Ginny for two blocks until she turned into a rundown little café.  As Ron started to follow her, Sirius held out a leather clad arm to stop him, shaking his head.

"Not yet," he said.

"Why don't we just go in there?" asked Ron, gesturing at the door.  His eyes were watching his sister through the front glass as she got a cup of something from the rat-faced fellow at the counter then went to sit at a dark table situated in a corner.  "We don't have to tell her we're Aurors or anything."

"And if she asks what we're doing here?"  Sirius arched an eyebrow at the younger man quizzically.

Ron shrugged and grinned lopsidedly as he replied, "Tell her we were looking for Harry, spotted her, and thought that she might know where he was."

The dark-haired man looked at him for a moment then laughed and cuffed Ron on the shoulder.

"There you go!  Good thinking, Ron."

"Thanks.  I guess I'll go in and say 'hi'."

"I'll be right behind you," said Sirius, looking up and down the street to see if Harry was possibly anywhere nearby.  Meanwhile, Ron strode inside, ignoring the glare he got from the fellow behind the counter and walked over to Ginny, who had one hand on her Styrofoam cup and the other trailing down a column in a newspaper.

Ron touched the back of the only other chair at the table and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

"No," replied Ginny, not looking up.  Then she seemed to freeze.  Brown eyes lifted to look into blue and a smile spread across the young woman's face.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, gesturing at the seat.  "Sit down, sit down!  What are you doing here in London?"

"I could ask you the same thing," said Ron as he sat down, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see what Sirius was doing.  The dark-haired man was still standing outside, leaning against a lamppost.

Ginny simply smiled and quipped, "My reasons for being here are my own."

"Well, I'd like to know."

"You mean the whole family would like to know why I left," said Ginny tightly, her eyes flashing.

Ron let out a growl and clenched his hand into a fist where it sat on his knee.  "Look, Gin," he said, "we – _I_ – just want to know why you left."

"Why?" said Ginny.  "You want to know _why_ I left, Ron?  Because of the lot of _you_."

"_Us?_"

"Yeah, you.  Every single one of you.  After Dad died, everyone was telling me to comfort Mum, as though it were my job.  And the rest of you just went out and played _Quidditch!"_

"Well, you hurt Mum even more by leaving!"

"What else was I supposed to do?  I tried to talk to you.  But no…no one would listen.  Just patted me on the head and told me to go look after Mum.  I never saw you or Fred or Percy looking after Mum.  No, you had your own lives.  Let's leave poor little _Ginny_ to look after Mum.  She's a _girl_, she can do more."  Ginny spat on the floor in anger then continued, "Well, guess what, Ron?  I couldn't do more.  The lot of you acted like it hadn't hurt _me_ to lose Dad too.  Well, it did.  It hurt like _fucking hell_ and I hated all of you for putting me in the position that you did."

"Then why are you talking to me?" asked Ron.

Ginny snorted and picked up her paper, opening it to the second page.  "I stopped hating you two years ago, Ron," came the reply through the thin paper.

"Glad to hear it."

His only response was a snort and a turning of the page.  Ron sat there for a long moment before he turned in his chair and looked out the front window at Sirius.

"Tell him to come in," came Ginny's voice.

"What?" said Ron in surprise, turning to look at her.

Ginny lowered the paper so Ron could see her face.  She nodded towards the front window and said, "Go tell Sirius to come in.  If he's looking to talk to Harry, he'll be here soon.  I don't know how happy he'll be to see him…but that's Harry's matter not mine."  She shrugged and lifted the paper again.

Ron blinked for a few moments then rose and walked outside.  He tapped Sirius on the shoulder, saying, "C'mon in," when he got the man's attention.  The two of them went back in and walked over to Ginny's table.  Ron returned to his seat as Sirius pulled up another chair and peered at the newspaper.

"Ginny?"

The newspaper came down at the young woman smiled at the man.  "Hello, Sirius," she said, laying the paper flat.  "I assume you two really didn't come here looking for me, but for Harry?"

Ron's eyes went wide but Sirius retained his calm composure.  He leaned one elbow on the table and stretched his other arm out, taking the rim on her cup in two fingers and tilting it towards him.

"Coffee?"

"Yes," said Ginny, taking the cup back and sitting it on top of a black and white picture of a completely demolished police car.  "Now answer my question, Sirius."

Clear blue eyes met brown coolly and Sirius leaned back in his chair, his eyes keeping contact.  "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Bullshit," snapped Ginny harshly, causing Ron to jump.  She stabbed a finger at Sirius and said, "I was around a good many Aurors after Dad took office and I know how they walk.  You've got the posture of an Auror, Sirius.  Ron has yet to pull it off."

"Hey!" said Ron.

"Shut up," said Ginny, her eyes focused on Sirius.  She frowned at him and continued, "And if the two of you are after Harry, I'll tell the both of you right now that we haven't gone near the wizarding world in four years."

"What about the two Harry spent on his own?" asked Sirius, arching an eyebrow.

"He was in America."

"Doing what?"

"Now, now," said Ginny, "you know I can't tell you that."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"Because we're not interrogating her," replied Sirius.  "And we can't take her in unless we have proof that she and Harry have been messing with things they shouldn't."

"I can still _mess_ with the wizarding world, as you so eloquently put it," snapped Ginny.  "No one snapped _my_ wand."

"Where is it?" asked Sirius.

"For what?  So you can snap it now?  I haven't used magic in almost four years, Sirius."

"Still…"

"Fuck no."

"_Ginny!_" exclaimed Ron.

"Oh, please, Ron," cried Ginny.  "Mum got onto the twins for worse language than that.  Especially when they hexed Percy so he could only say every word in that category for a week every time he opened his mouth."

"That was funny."

"That wasn't my point."

"Oh."

There was a momentary silence then Sirius put his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair, and eyed Ginny lazily.  After a moment he said, "So…when will Harry get here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," replied Ginny.  She moved her coffee cup and started to pick up her paper again then paused and said, "And as I said earlier, I don't think he's going to be too happy see you two."

"And why not?" asked Sirius.

"That's Harry's business, not mine," came the reply.  "Now if you'd mind letting me read…"

Ron looked at Sirius, who had closed his eyes and appeared to be dozing in his chair.  The redheaded young man heaved a sigh and looked out the front window, wondering when this hellish day would be over.

A/N: The trashcan sequence is courtesy K. A. Applegate's Animorphs series.  **Her obsession before Harry Potter.  And now they are never to be read again.**  _Oh the humanity!  *faints*  *blinks and looks at Saerry*  Are they always like this?_  Yes.  Oh, and everyone!  Meet my new muse.  She just suddenly popped into being one day.  _Hi, I'm Amelie._  **She's the romance muse.  Whereas WE are the insanity muses.**  _Speak for yourselves._  **OI!  HEY!**  _And this is normal?_  Normal as it gets, Mel.  _Oh, dear…_


	5. Conversations with Criminals

Chapter 5 

Harry pulled the motorbike up outside of a building made of corrugated metal that was covered severely in rust and dripping gobbets of it onto the pavement around it.  This was, as you could say, his headquarters of sorts.

As he turned the bike off and put the kickstand down, the door on the side of the building swung open to reveal a scrawny young man of about twenty-one years.  He had the bright red hair associated with the Weasley family and that was rightly so as his father was the eldest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley.  The red hair, however, was shot through with streaks of blond and seriously spiked up, which matched the spiked collar about his neck and the band on his left wrist.  A tattoo of a dragon snaked its way across his right forearm and what could only be a dragon fang dangled from an earring in his right ear.  He obviously followed his father's style of dress.

"Harry!" exclaimed he as he spotted the other man.  "What are you doing here?  After that stunt last night with Shanks, I wouldn't have thought that you and Ginny would be out."  He looked around and added, "Where is she anyway?"

"Waiting for me at our café," replied Harry as he stuffed the keys to the motorbike in his pocket.  "Nice to see you too, Benji."

Benjamin Weasley, better known as Benji, smiled slightly and said, "Same to you, Harry.  What's up?"

"Shanks had what I've been looking for," said Harry as the two of them entered the building.

"Shit.  Did you get it?"

"No.  The idiot sold it to someone.  Couldn't tell me who though."

Benji snapped his fingers and said, "Damnit.  We were that close to finally getting rid of it!"

"Calm down, kid," admonished Harry, sitting down on the edge of a desk that was littered with papers of all sorts.  "We'll get it.  I've got the feeling that Shanks has some more objects that this person might want."

"What makes you say that?" asked Benji as he sat down in the chair behind the desk, propping his feet up on the edge closest to him.

"A hunch.  I want you to get Guy on him."

"_Guy?_  Harry, he's the best spy we've got.  You really want to put him on Shanks?"

Harry gave Benji the Evil Eye and the redheaded young man held up his hands.

"Okay, okay.  Guy it is.  Anything else you wanted?"

"Yeah.  How's that thing with that American fellow going?"

Benji scowled and replied, "Not so good.  Anka's over there right now trying to sort it out."

"What's the problem?" asked Harry.

"He doesn't trust us."

"Tell him the feelings mutual and that he doesn't have to trust me to get what he wants."

"Gotcha, boss."

"Anything I should know about?" asked Harry as he picked up an abandoned pack of cigarette's off of the desk.  He dug into his pocket for a moment as he put one in his mouth.

"Nothing that I can think of," replied Benji as Harry fished a lighter out of his pocket and lit the cigarette.  "Those can kill you, y'know."

"Yeah," said Harry.  He then offered it to Benji, who took it with an amused smile.  As he handed it back to Harry, the dark-haired man said, "Guess we'll die together then, eh?"

"Sure.  It'll be fun."

Harry chuckled and said, "Keep things together, eh?  And call me if Guy gets anything."

"You got it."

Harry nodded at him then left the building.  He had an appointment with a lovely lady to keep.

And he wasn't going to miss it.

* * * *

"He's late," muttered Ginny without looking at her watch.

"Huh?" said Ron as Sirius let out a snore.

Ginny didn't bother to answer and Ron sighed.  This was turning out to be a fine day indeed…

"Hey, Harry, mate!  What'll it be today?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any beer, would you, Paul?"

The rat-faced man behind the counter chuckled and pulled a brown bottle out from somewhere near his feet.

"More like ale it is.  Old fashioned sort.  Made it myself."

"That'll work.  Thanks."

"Anytime!"

Ron sat as still as someone walked towards their table, coming straight at his back.  They ignored Ron and Sirius and slid into the chair beside Ginny, shoving it neatly up against hers.  Harry sat the brown bottle down on the table then pecked the redhead on the cheek.

"'Lo, lovely."

"Your late," growled Ginny, still not looking up from the newspaper.

"Sorry," said Harry.  "Traffic was hell on the way over here."  He then looked at Ron and frowned.  When he saw Sirius, his expression darkened.  His eyes shadowed as well, which Ron noticed were no longer framed by glasses.

"Ron," he growled.  "And Sirius.  How…_pleasant_.  Ginny, love, what are they doing here?"

"Apparently they wanted to talk to you," replied Ginny.  "I told them you wouldn't be too happy about it."

"I'm not."

"Harry," began Ron, only to be cut off suddenly.

"Look, you son of a bitch.  I want the wizarding world to stay out of my life.  Hasn't it done enough damage as is?" 

Harry uncapped the brown bottle and lifted it to his lips.

"We're not intruding on your life, Harry," said Sirius softly, still trying to keep his charade of being asleep going.

"Bullshit," muttered Harry before he took a sip of the ale.  "Hmm, nutty."

"Really?" remarked Ginny.  "Let me see that."

Harry solemnly handed the bottle to the redhead and Ron blinked as she nearly drank half of it straight.

"Leave me a little, lovely, or I'll have to beg Paul for more," quipped Harry, nudging her slightly with his elbow.

Ginny sighed and handed the bottle back.

"S'good stuff.  I commend Paul's brewing skills."

"Can we get to business?" asked Sirius irritably, no longer pretending to be asleep.

"No," snapped Harry.

"Harry, we just…"

"Sirius, I don't care what the fuck you want.  Stay out of my life."

"I wish I could, Harry," said Sirius.  "But that's just it.  I can't."

"Oh really?" said Harry, arching an eyebrow.  "Why's that?"

"We know you're looking for a certain…magical item.  Why?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" snapped Harry.  "It's my business.  Piss off."

"We need to know," said Ron.  "The Ministry's found out what you're looking for and its got them nervous."

"Oh yay," sneered Harry.  "The Ministry's nervous.  Big fuckin' woop-dee-doo.  I really don't give a shit.  I just want to find it and get rid of it.  Savvy?"

Sirius shook his head and said, "You've got to stop looking for it, Harry.  For your own sake."

"Uh-huh.  Right."

"Harry, please!" exploded Ron.  At a hard look from Paul, he lowered his voice.  "There are…other people looking for that thing.  And if they find out that you're looking for it, they're going to probably kill you."

"What's new?" asked Harry.  "I got shot at just last night by a cop."

Sirius looked confused at that.  "I thought cop's didn't carry guns."

"Since they've got us out on the street, they do," said Ginny.  She lifted her head to smile ferally at Sirius.  "We're dangerous, you know."

"Yeah," said Sirius lightly.  "I know."

"I doubt you know how much," said Harry.  He downed the last of the ale and said, "What do you say we get out of here, lovely?  I feel like a drive."

"Sounds perfect," purred Ginny, folding up the paper and dropping it on the table.  She turned her coffee cup upside down on top of it and Harry slid the empty bottle across the table to sit beside it.

"Wait," said Ron, rising from his seat.  "You can't leave."

Harry's hand started to dip under his coat and Sirius reached for his wand.  But Ginny placed her hand on the dark-haired young man's arm.

"Not in broad daylight, love," she murmured.

"Fine," snarled Harry, glaring daggers at Ron.  "Don't get in my way, _Auror Weasley_.  I promise you it won't be good for your health."

"Harry…" began Sirius only to stop as Harry turned that glare upon him.  It was good enough to rival one of Snape's best.  And those he had long secured solely for Sirius and Voldemort.

"Don't, Sirius," said Harry with a slight note of pleading in his voice.  "I don't want to hurt either of you.  But I will."

Sirius locked eyes lazily with his godson and he felt a little piece of him break as he saw that Harry was being serious.

The boy he had known would not have made such a threat.

But Harry wasn't the boy he had known anymore.

"Move, Ron," said Sirius softly.

Ron turned to stare at him.

"But…Sirius…"

"_Move!_"

Ron frowned but moved out of Harry's way.  He gave Sirius a surly look and crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry nodded to Sirius and then he and Ginny walked out, their arms clasped about each others waists.  Sirius thought he saw a flash of a shoulder rig and metal underneath Ginny's coat.

"We let them go," said Ron.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"We can't hold them," said Sirius.

"But they're looking for _it!_"

"To _destroy_ it.  You know the Ministry doesn't want that.  They want to put it in holding.  Like its some sort of treasure."

"So you're going to let them get off because they're going to do what the Ministry won't?" asked Ron.  When Sirius didn't answer, he said, "Sirius?"

"Let's head back," said Sirius, turning to leave.

"What?  Sirius!  _Sirius!_"  Ron heaved a heavy sighed and growled, "Sometimes I really get fed up with him…"


	6. Night Attack

Chapter 6 

"Harry, what are we going to do?" hissed Ginny into the ear beside her mouth.  "They know we're looking for it."

"So?" yelled Harry back over his shoulder as he dodged between the London traffic on the motorbike.  "Maybe its better that way."

"What if they try and stop us?  Harry?"

Ginny felt him sigh.

"I won't let them stop me, Gin," he hissed as he slowly the bike down for a stoplight.  "Not even Ron and Sirius."

* * * *

It is nighttime at a house in Kent.  Several dark figures slink their way through the bushes towards it.

"Surround the house," ordered one of the figures, in a soft but commanding voice.  "Enter in whatever way you can and find them.  Capture them.  If they fight, subdue them.  Only kill them if you _absolutely must_."

"Yes, sir," mumbled several voices before the figures split up.

One of them managed to wrench a window open.  An alarm that they did not hear went through the house at this, alerting the two souls asleep in the upstairs bedroom.

"Intruders," growled the male of the two as he reached over to the table on his side.  Opening a drawer, he drew out a .45 revolver.

"Lovely," hissed the female, rolling over to grab a revolver identical to the man's from the table on her own side.  "Shall we go greet them?"

"Get some clothes on first, dear heart," murmured the man, leaning across the bed to kiss her cheek.  "After all, only I get to see you without clothes."

The woman smiled in the dark and said, "Don't have too much fun without me."

The man, who was now already half across the room, threw a feral grin over his shoulder at her then dashed down the hall towards the staircase.  He glanced at a mirror deliberately placed so you could see someone coming up the staircase and immediately scowled at what he saw in its reflection.

A figure in a dark cloak and a stark white mask was coming up the stairs, a slim piece of wood in their right hand.

_Death Eaters_, thought Harry grimly.  _I should have known…_

As soon as the Death Eater placed a foot on the second floor, Harry reached out with the speed of a striking snake and grabbed the front of their robes.  He hauled them to the floor, knocking their wand out of their hand.  It rolled away to clatter to a stop at the wall as he crouched on top of them.

"Hello," he purred as he shoved the barrel of the gun against their chin.  "Please do move so I have a nice excuse to blow your fucking head off."

"P-Potter," choked the Death Eater.  "You're going to die…"

"What's new?" growled Harry.  "Now, how many of you are there?"

"I'm not going to tell you…"

Harry growled and slapped lightly at the base of the wall.  A secret compartment opened and he grabbed a sheathed hunting knife from the spot.  He slung the sheath off, then waved the blade in front of the Death Eater's face.

"This blade is laced with a poison so deadly that the moment it touches your skin, it will enter your bloodstream and begin to rapidly eat away all of your organs.  Starting with your brain."  He grinned maniacally as he added, "Like it?  I came up with it myself."

"Y-your lying."

"Shall we test it?"  Harry let the blade wander slowly down to the Death Eater's neck.  He nearly had the point touching…

"Twenty-five," gasped the Death Eater.  "There are twenty-five!"

"Counting you?"

The Death Eater nodded and Harry smirked before using the stock of his revolver to knock the Death Eater unconscious.  "Thank you," he murmured before he stood and rolled the body under a table.  In the dark, he wouldn't be seen.

Turning back towards the staircase, he checked the mirror before stepping into the stairwell.  Seeing nothing, he started down, revolver cocked in his right hand and knife ready in the other.  Just before he reached the last step and made it into the kitchen, another Death Eater appeared.  Before they could make a sound, the knife flew through the air and slammed home into their throat.  The Death Eater fell without making even the slightest of sounds.

Harry smirked and glanced into the main room through the kitchen doorway.  He could see the Death Eater's roaming about in there perfectly but the refrigerator blocked their view of him.

Soft footsteps padded up behind him suddenly and a familiar hand touched his bare back.

"How many?" murmured Ginny, leaning against him.

"Twenty-three now," said Harry.  "Twenty-five is unconscious upstairs and twenty-four, I am pleased to say, is no longer in the land of the living."

"Death Eater's?  Why?"

"Well, Sirius _did_ say that there were other people out looking for what we're looking for."

Ginny snorted softly and asked, "How many in the main room?"

"Hmm…fourteen.  Shall we dance?"

"Let's.  The wards I put up two years ago should still be in place."

"Let us hope so," murmured Harry.  "If they fail, well…I must say it's been a marvelous two years."

"Indeed," purred Ginny with a smile.  She placed a kiss on his shoulder, sending a shiver racing down his back.  "Do you think they'd prefer a waltz or a jig?"

"We could ask."

"Oh now where's the fun in that?"

Harry grinned at her over his shoulder and said, "Good point."  He then swung out from behind the refrigerator, revolver raised in a one-handed grip.  Ginny spun into place beside him, her own revolver in a two-handed grip.

"Evening, boys," she purred.

Fourteen Death Eater's looked up to blink at the sight of Harry Potter dressed only in a pair of blue jeans and Ginny Weasley in leather pants and a spaghetti-strap shirt.

One minute later, only two of them were left standing.

Ginny and Harry lunged forward as one, charging right on into two raised wands.  Harry dodged the curse that was thrown at him and leapt into the air, delivering a kick that sent the Death Eater halfway across the room and into a glass coffee table.

Ginny, however, was hit by a ball of fire in the shoulder before she could reach the other Death Eater.  She collapsed to the floor with a faux moan, trying to lure the Death Eater closer.  They did come forward and she slammed her fist upward into the stomach.  As they buckled over in pain, she slugged them across the jaw, which sent the Death Eater to the floor like a sack of flour.

"So?" she said as she rose to her feet.  "How many does that leave?"

"Nine," replied Harry.  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he surveyed the room and asked, "You okay?"

"I'll live," growled Ginny, gingerly touching her burnt shoulder.  She slid open a drawer in a table to her right and pulled out a box full of cartridges, reloading her revolver.  Then she walked over to Harry and replaced the gun in his hand with her own.

"What about you?" he asked.

Ginny just smirked and slipped a foot underneath the couch.  She slid a small box out, which, when she opened it, revealed a loaded revolver.

"Hiding things from me, are we?"

"I have my little secrets," murmured Ginny.  She then nodded in the direction of the garage and said, "I'll check out there."

"Be careful," hissed Harry.

"Always."

Harry watched the redhead until she disappeared through the door then he turned around to head back upstairs.

What he met was the end of a wand.

"Evening, Potter."

Harry smirked and said, "Hello, Malfoy," before he grabbed the man's wrist and slammed the butt of the revolver into his mask.  It shattered and the sneering face of Draco Malfoy appeared.

"Funny," sneered Draco.  "The Golden Boy of Gryffindor reduced to using Muggle weaponry."

Harry felt cold steel against his side and he glanced down before meeting the cold gray eyes.

"And you, Malfoy," he sneered in Draco's exact tone.  "Such a pity that a _Pureblood_ should be reduced to using Muggle weaponry."

"Fuck you, Potter," snarled Draco.

And he pulled the trigger.  Several times.

Harry felt two of the bullets rip through him before he began to fall towards the floor.  A third bullet slashed across his back and then the pistol that Draco was holding began to click.  The bullet's had stuck.

"That's the trouble with pistols," said Harry, his voice laced with pain.  "The magical energies around wizards really fucks with their make-up."

He lifted his revolver and sighted down the barrel.  A bullet clicked into the chamber and he fired.

Draco went down, a bullet through his throat.  As he choked on his own blood, Harry dragged himself to his feet and leaned down to snarl, "But revolver's…their just too simple for magic to fuck with.  See you on the other side, Malfoy."

A sneer seemed to cross the other man's lips before life faded from the gray eyes.  Harry shook his head slightly then looked up as the garage door opened.  Ginny came stalking into the room, a proud smirk on her face.  There were spatters of blood on the left side of her face.

"Five down by bullet, two down by knife, and one who was unlucky enough to attempt to hide under the BMW.  He didn't make it very far."  She then noticed the blood on Harry's side and rushed forward, revolver dropping to the floor.  "Oh Merlin…who?"

"Malfoy," breathed Harry, grabbing at the leaking wounds.  "Bastard actually used a pistol.  Got me twice in the side and the third took a slice of me before it fouled up.  Looks like your wards failed."

"My wards were made to keep _spells_ and bullets shot from several _feet_ away from hitting one of us.  Lie down now," commanded Ginny, taking the revolver from his suddenly limp fingers.  "Just lean on me…"

With a bit of leverage and a lot of leaning on Harry's part, he managed to lie flat on the floor.  Ginny grabbed a blanket off of one of the couches and shoved it against the bleeding bullet wounds.  She lightly slapped Harry's face as he started to drift.

"No drifting, love," she murmured.  She then heard a sound at the front door and reached for Harry's still loaded revolver.

When the front door was kicked open, she pointed her revolver at the first figure through.  Which she recognized a second later as her brother.

"Ron?  What the fuck…"

"We set up alarms around the house just in case something like this happened," explained Ron, rushing over to her side.  "Looks like it was a good thing."  He nodded at Harry as he said this.

"He's been shot," explained Ginny.

Ron blinked then bellowed over his shoulder, "_Healer!_  We've got injured here!"

"What sort?" demanded a figure in white as they rushed forward.  Ginny blinked as she recognized Dennis Creevey.

"Gun shot."

"Hell, he needs a Muggle doctor."

"We'd rather not explain two bullet wounds to a load of police," growled Ginny.  Dennis glanced at her then nodded sharply.

"St. Mungo's then.  Abrams!  Stockholm!  Get in here!"

"Aye, sir," said two more Healer's as they rushed into the room.  The three of them performed a series of charms on Harry before they levitated him and floated him out of the room.  Ginny started to follow but Ron held her back.

"He'll be fine.  Right now you've got to tell me what happened."

"Ron, I need…"

"I know you want to go with him, Gin," said Ron, "but I need you to do this for me first.  Okay?  I swear I'll make it quick and then I will _personally_ take you to St. Mungo's."

Ginny frowned at him then nodded.

"Okay.  Firstly, how did they get in…"


	7. Wizarding Blues

Chapter 7

"…fucking hell."

Harry groaned as his mind slowly rose to consciousness.  The instant he had started to awake, pain had assailed his senses.  And it was a familiar pain to him.

After all, he'd been shot before.

"Harry?" said a voice from his left.  "Are you okay?"

Harry growled in the back of his throat and opened one eye blearily to glare at Ron.

"I feel like shit.  Does that answer your question?"

"He's okay," said a voice from his right, laughter in it.  Harry turned his head in that direction and smiled as Ginny's face entered his sight.

"Hello there, lovely."

"You bastard," spat Ginny in a tearful tone.  "You had me scared for nearly half a day!"

"Sorry, love."

"You nearly didn't make it," explained Ron.  "They – they nearly lost you."

"Who's they?" asked Harry.  He peered about his room suddenly and swore he saw a moving painting.  "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's," replied Ginny, clutching his hand in her own.  "Muggle hospital would have been too suspicious."

"I'm right with you on that, Gin.  Now who's 'they?'"

"Your doctors," replied the two redheads at the same time.

"One of which would be me," said Dennis as he entered the room, a Muggle clipboard in hand.

Harry blinked twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating (about Dennis _and_ the clipboard).

"Dennis _Creevey?_  You're a doctor?"

"The wizarding term is actually Healer but I suppose you could call me that too," said Dennis.  "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Like I got shot."

Dennis smiled and said, "A sense of humor, I see.  Well…I'm glad to say you're doing just fine.  Judging by the rate that you're recovering, you should be out of here in say…three days?  Maybe four."

"Three.  Days," repeated Harry.  He then closed his eyes and moaned, "But I hate hospitals!"

Ginny smiled and kissed his forehead, smoothing back a lock of errant hair as she pulled back.  "Then you shouldn't get injured so much," she murmured.

"Thank you for that wonderful suggestion, love."

"You're welcome, dear heart."

Dennis smiled at the two of them then left the room.  He was replaced by Sirius a few moments later.

"The Minister wants you to be taken into custody immediately after your release," he stated with a scowl.

"What?" exclaimed Harry at the same time Ginny demanded, "On what grounds?"

"On the grounds that twenty-four wizards and one witch are dead, including Draco Malfoy.  All of them found in your house."

"They _attacked_ us!" snarled Ginny.  "Didn't you put that in your report?"

Sirius nodded and said, "We both did but everyone seems to be ignoring it."  He looked at his godson and continued, "I think they just want you where they can keep tabs on you."

Harry scowled and sneered, "I am _not_ going to stay caged up like some animal."

"We'll fight it," said Ron.  "I swear we will, Harry."

"You had better," growled Ginny.  "I won't let them take Harry."

"You may not have any choice," said Sirius.

Ginny shook her head and said, "You _always_ have a choice.  I will not abandon him."

"Gin…" began Ron, only to be interrupted by Harry.

"Don't even, Ron.  If there's one thing I've learned about the vixen here, its that once she's made up her mind, there is no changing it."

"Damn right," murmured Ginny, leaning down to kiss his cheek.  She smiled and added, "Get some sleep, Harry."

"Mmm," said Harry, closing his eyes.  "You'd better be here when I wake up."

"Where else would I be, love?" asked Ginny.

Ron and Sirius exchanged looks and then left the room.

* * * *

"How are we going to fight this, Sirius?" asked Ron as the two of them walked down the hallway.  "They can't really take Harry in, can they?  Not without some sort of evidence."

"I don't know," said Sirius.  He suddenly stopped and turned towards the ginger-haired young man.  "Go and talk to Hermione.  See if she can help us figure out how to keep the Ministry from getting their claws into Harry."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ron.

"It'd be best if you didn't know."

"You're going to snoop around, aren't you?"

Sirius just grinned and Ron nodded.

"Yep, you're going to snoop around."

"Just go talk to Hermione," said Sirius, slapping the younger wizard on the back as he turned and walked off.  Ron blinked after him for a moment before he left to go find a fireplace to contact his ex-girlfriend.

When he found one and got a hold of Hermione, she began to immediately berate him.

"Ron, I've got no time to talk!  I've got umpteen files on my desk of twenty-five dead Death Eater's that I have to sort through!"

"I know," said Ron.  "They attacked Harry and Ginny."

"_What?!_" exclaimed Hermione.  "Are they alright?"

"Harry got shot."

"_Harry got shot?_"

"Twice.  Malfoy was carrying a pistol."

"A pistol?" said Hermione.  "But, Ron, it couldn't have worked.  Magic fouls up machinery, you know that.  Revolvers are much better."

"Could be the reason why Harry and Ginny carry them…" mused Ron.

Hermione nodded then asked, "Is Harry okay?"

"Yeah.  He's here at St. Mungo's.  So's Gin."

"What about…the Ministry?"

"They want to take him into custody.  I'm afraid that if they do, somebody's going to get killed."

Hermione frowned.

"Harry didn't take it well?"

"Neither did Gin.  Sirius and I need you to find out if there's anyway we can keep them from getting their claws into Harry."

"I think I remember something," muttered Hermione.  "I'll check.  How long do I have?"

"Three days."

"Shit," said Hermione and Ron grinned mentally.  He had had _some_ effect on his ex-girlfriend.  "Alright.  I'll call you if I find anything.  Will you be at St. Mungo's the entire time?"

"Yeah," replied Ron.  "Going to keep an eye on Harry and Gin."

"Okay.  I'll see you later."

"Be careful."

Hermione winked at him and said, "Always," before her head vanished from the fireplace.  Ron sighed and turned away from it to head back down the hall towards Harry's room.  When he got inside, he saw Ginny talking on what looked like a Muggle cell phone.  He remembered what Hermione had said about magic fouling up technology.

"How are you getting that to work?" he asked.

Ginny held a finger to her lips and said something into the phone before she turned it off.  Turning towards him, she said, "What?"

"How are you getting that to work?" repeated Ron.  "Mione said that magic fouls up technology."

Ginny smiled and replied, "A little charm of mine.  I wired everything in our house to run off magic."

"Including the cars?"

Ginny nodded solemnly.

"Damn."  He then glanced at Harry and said, "He asleep?"

"Yeah," said Ginny, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind Harry's ear.  She smiled almost to herself and softly said, "I love to watch him when he's sleeping.  He looks…innocent."

Ron nodded, his eyes locked on his old friend's face.  She was right.  When Harry was asleep, he looked just like the old Harry.  It was when he was awake that he scared the living shit out of Ron.

"Gin…"

"I love him, Ron," she said, looking at him.  "I really do.  Please…"  She swallowed hard and seemed to be having a hard time continuing.

"Gin?" queried Ron, taking a step forward.

Ginny looked at him with slightly teary eyes and whispered, "Please, Ron…don't let them take him away from me."

"I won't," promised Ron, moving towards her.  He gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder and added, "I swear I won't let anything happen to him."

"Thank you," whispered Ginny, bowing her head.

Ron smiled and just stood there with her, watching Harry sleep.  It felt sort of like old times again.

Except for the fact that he could smell the metal of her gun.


	8. Meeting of Minds

Chapter 8

"Auror Weasley?  Sir?"

"Hmm?"  Ron blinked and peered curiously at a blurry shape that was bouncing at the edge of his vision.  He rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked at it again.

A house-elf wearing a toga-like outfit stamped with the St. Mungo's emblem perched on his knee, staring at him with huge blue eyes.

"Yes?" said Ron, running a hand back through his short hair.

"Miss Granger is on the Floo, sir.  Madam Bodkin wanted Habry to tell you."

Ron nodded absently and said, "Thank you, er…"  He blinked at the elf again, having not caught its name.  Three years living with Hermione had taught him a few things.

The house-elf looked embarrassed and muttered, "I is Habry, sir."

"Thank you, Habry.  Could you please tell Hermione…I mean, Miss Granger, that I'll be there in a moment?"

Habry bobbed her head happily and chirped, "Yes, sir!  Habry can do that, sir!"  With that she popped out of sight, leaving Ron to choke on the slight cloud of smoke she left.  He coughed heavily as he staggered to his feet and walked over to Harry's bed.

Ginny had been sitting in a chair beside the bed when he had fallen asleep in his own chair.  But when he looked at the chair now, it was empty.

A glance at the bed revealed where she had gone.

Ginny was curled up against Harry's side, which Ron could have thought would have been an impossibility.  But she had done it and looked comfortable.  Her head was pillowed on his chest and the fingers of her left hand were curled into Harry's hospital gown.

After a moment, green eyes flickered open and Harry smiled tightly at Ron.

"You watching us?"

Ron blinked and said, "You're awake.  You okay?"

"No," growled Harry.  "But I'm better."  He looked lovingly down at the redhead curled up against him and Ron saw for a moment the boy he had known.  Then he was gone and the same street hardened Harry reappeared.  "How's the thing with the Ministry going?"

"I've got Hermione on it," replied Ron.  "Speaking of which, she's waiting for me on the Floo.  I'll be right back."

"Sure," said Harry, watching him as he started towards the door.

Ron stopped just before he opened it and said, "Oh, and you'd better wake Gin up.  If a nurse comes in here and sees you two like that, she'll have a conniption fit."

"I've never fully understood what that meant…"

Ron threw a grin over his shoulder and shrugged.

"We're even there then."

Harry gave a chuckle that turned into a cough and waved Ron away.  The redhead nodded slightly and left the room hurriedly.  When he reached the fireplace where Hermione was waiting, the bushy-haired woman immediately began berating him.

"Ronald Weasley!" she snapped in the _exact_ tones his mother used to – and still did – use.  "How _dare_ you leave me on hold!"

"Sorry, Mione," said Ron, running a hand back through his hair nervously.  "I had to check on Harry and Ginny before I left.  Y'know…make sure at least one of them's awake before I left the room.

"Well then that's okay."  Hermione gave him a frown then continued, "I found your information, by the way."

A huge grin broke out over Ron's face and he proclaimed, "That's great!  Can you send it through?"

Hermione smiled and said, "I don't think so.  I'll bring it over myself."

"But…"

"No but's."  Hermione grinned and finished, "I want to see Harry and Ginny anyway.  Be there in a few!  Ta ta!"

"But, Mione…!" exclaimed Ron, lunging towards the fireplace.

She was already gone.

Cursing under his breath, Ron turned angrily on a heel and stalked back down to Harry's room.

* * * *

A half-hour later, Hermione entered the room that she had been informed Harry was in.  She immediately halted in the doorway and stared at the young woman who was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking rapidly to the figure lying beside her.

"G-Ginny?"

The redhead turned towards her and a smile broke over her face.

"_Hermione!_"

"Hermione?" said the figure on the bed, lifting their head.  Hermione saw a glimpse of wild dark hair before Ginny enveloped her in a warm hug.

"Oh, Merlin, its good to see you!" exclaimed the redhead.  "How've you been?"

"Fine," stammered Hermione, staring at the younger woman.  This was supposed to be the Virginia Weasley that had been wreaking havoc with Harry in London?

The figure on the bed seemed to sense her thoughts and said, "Don't let her fool you, Hermie.  She may seem normal but she's quite a dangerous woman."

Ginny turned to look at the figure on the bed and said, "Oh, you're one to talk."

"I am, aren't I?"

Hermione blinked and peered over Hermione's shoulder at the figure on the bed.

"Harry?  Is that you?"

Harry grinned and said, "That would be me.  Do I look weird?  Or maybe grew another head without knowing it?"

Hermione laughed as he turned his head from side to side and said, "No, you didn't.  It's just…you don't look like I remember you."

"Oh, really?" said Harry with a laugh.  "I suppose you remember a scrawny boy with thick black glasses who got into too much trouble for his own good."

Ginny chuckled and walked back over to the bed, hopping up onto the end of it.  She leaned back onto his legs, slapping one as she said, "You're _still_ scrawny.  And get into too much trouble for your own good."

"Hey, you're one to talk."

"Heh.  I've been counting.  To this day, you outnumber me by thirty-four."

Harry groaned, "Please don't tell me you're counting my run-in's with Voldemort."

Ginny smiled at him and said, "Sorry, love."

"S'alright.  Maybe you should count yours too."

"Okay.  Thirty-three then."

"Uh-huh.  Last battle.  I believe I remember _some_ insane little redhead leaping on top of me so a certain Dark Lord wouldn't run me through."

"Oh.  I forgot about that."

"Probably because you got the hilt of said sword slammed into the back of your head a second later."

Ginny smiled slightly and turned to look at Hermione, who was watching the two of them with a slightly agape expression on her face.

"What?" asked Harry and Ginny at the same time.

Hermione just shook her head and replied, "You two don't seem like the duo that most of Scotland Yard and half of the Aurors are afraid of."

Harry just grinned and said, "You should see us when we start work."

Hermione blinked then looked around the room with a frown.

"Where's Ron?"

"Coffee break," chorused Harry and Ginny.

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "I never should have introduced him to that."

"What do you want him for?" asked Ginny.

"I found what he was looking for."

Ginny's eyes lit up.

"A way to keep Harry away from the Ministry?  _It took you half a day to find it?_"

"This _is_ Hermione, love," said Harry, smiling fondly at Ginny.  He tried to sit up but winced painfully and ceased the motion.  "So, how are we planning to keep the Ministry away from me?"

Hermione smiled and replied, "They can only keep you in custody if the Death Eater's bodies were killed by magical means.  Otherwise they have no say in the matter."

"Well they could easily fake that!" exclaimed Ginny.  "We've got to have something more concrete than that."

"I know.  We may only have one choice."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"Smuggling you out of here."

Ginny and Harry both blinked owlishly at her.

"Did you just say what I think you did?" gasped Ginny.

"She did," murmured Harry.  "Hermione Granger, the most rule-abiding soul I have ever known, just suggested smuggling me out of St. Mungo's."

"I never thought I'd live to see it…"

"Oh shut up, the both of you," snapped Hermione, a note of laughter in her voice.  "I'm going to go find Ron and tell him.  Will you two…"

"Be okay?" said Ginny.  "Sure."

Hermione nodded and left the room, leaving the two alone.  Ginny sank slowly down onto the bed and closed her eyes as her left hand snaked out to grasp Harry's right.

"Why can't everything just be like it was before?" she whispered.  "Why can't they leave us alone?"

"The wizarding world or the Death Eaters?" asked Harry.

"Both."

"I wish they would," mumbled Harry.  "They've fucked up my life enough as is.  And yours.  But they won't leave us alone."

"What are we going to do?" asked Ginny, laying down beside him.  Harry curled his arm about her waist and turned his head to press a kiss into her hair.

"I'd say shoot them but that wouldn't help matters much."  Harry sighed and closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of the woman beside him.  "We'll figure something out, love, don't worry."

"I'm not," whispered Ginny, leaning into his embrace.


End file.
